Zeela would probably backward-engineer the translator and have a corner on that market, too. Good position to be in, if the aliens didn’t conclude their exploration too soon and return to wherever it was that they came from. Whatever kind of world would birth beings such as those.
Too soon? Laughable thought. Talis might have accepted their money, but if they returned home yesterday it wouldn’t be too soon in her mind.
She didn’t reckon that Onaya Bone was going to give the aliens the information they wanted. There was a fair chance they wouldn’t even get the audience with her that they sought. She rarely spoke to her own people. Other races of Peridot even less frequently. And here were these outsiders, skulking around, behaving like cosmic stalkers. Acting as though Peridot was a public archive, forgetting it was people’s home.
Talis considered herself worldly. Believed she stood apart from the rest of Cutter folk, who were ignorant and isolationist. They stared at and avoided the other four races, spreading rumors and folklore to amplify their differences. She was proud that she darted here and there across the territories, and that she considered anyone who could be trusted beyond the edge of her eyesight as a potential friend. That she could drink firewater with the Rakkar, play skill games with the Vein, consider a Breaker man her closest business partner, or share her deepest secrets with a Bone warrior. So it came as an unsettling surprise to her—and an unsettling blow to her ego—that she felt so much discomfort around the Yu’Nyun.
All the same, Talis was not as annoyed at their presence as she had been before. Her skin prickled a little less in picturing the gaunt forms of her new clients. Her instinct to run had settled back down in her stomach. Which resumed its normal operations, reminding her she hadn’t had anything to eat all day.
The vision of sparkling precious metal and gems was now mated in her mind with the thought of the aliens. The flesh beneath their carved, bony husks might as well be polished sapphire.
Not that she thought she’d ever get used to seeing them. But at least she wouldn’t have to spend much time in their company. They were going to stay on their own ship. Wind Sabre would escort them to Fall Island, a day and a half’s cruise on the other side of the Bone border.
Hells, customs crossing is gonna be fun.
Talis entered the Tined Spoon District, where the biting fresh air of the open platforms was replaced with the hot spiced breath of Subrosa’s eateries. They were clustered together in one mostly fireproof concrete construction, centrally located and anchored directly to the inverted pyramid-shaped mass of Rosa above. All cultures were represented in the food stalls and restaurants, their smells mingling in the still air and the heat from the ovens and cooktops ensuring healthy sales of cold drink.
Her stomach rumbled and she changed course. She’d taken a scoop of the money from the coffers before departing Zeela’s back room. Tried not to look desperate. But now that her money belt was full and overdue expenses weren’t flowing in an endless list behind her eyes, it seemed reasonable to indulge in a tray of her favorite takeout. She had yet to figure out just how to tell her crew about their new contract, but a hot meal might help warm them to the idea.
Talis passed by stands of peppered sausages, kiosks where folded grain pockets were filled with crumbled mince and corn, and restaurants where thin cuts of meat and vegetables were served in bowls of fragrant broths. Past steaming stalls where batter-dipped indeterminate shapes were fried crispy and golden on the ends of wooden sticks. Headed for a tiny shop on the edge of the district, hiding in a back alley. Unnamed, the food stand mostly served the residents of Subrosa rather than trying to attract docked visitors. No pretense of friendly service, clean facilities, or tables that didn’t wobble. It was one of the best-kept secrets of Subrosa, and that was saying something. Either you knew the food was fantastic, and how to get there, or you stuck to the main thoroughfare, living on in ignorance.
At ease for the first time in months, Talis was rounding the last turn before reaching the food stall she sought when Hankirk nearly collided with her. He froze in surprise, a skewer of roasted poultry half-bitten between his teeth. One hand holding said skewer, the other supporting a tray containing the rest of his order. His face was something to see. Probably mirrored her own shock, though his eyes sparkled with something like delight. Well, sure. About to finally make that arrest, wasn’t he?
Her new revolvers were free of their holsters and leveled at him, with the food still half in his mouth. Their weight was strange in her hands, but she was thankful to have the advantage.
“No witnesses,” she said, pulling back the hammers with audible clicks. “I could save myself a lot of trouble right now.”
In truth, there were plenty of witnesses. There was a line snaking out of the door of the restaurant. But this was Subrosa. They had looked up when she drew the weapons but now turned uninterested eyes back to the menu boards in front of them. Shots fired, throats cut, inert bodies left in busy streets; these were all part of the place’s charm. She thought of the assassins. Of Jasper’s cooling body, and gripped the guns tighter.
Hankirk wasn’t even wearing his Imperial uniform. Of course he wouldn’t declare his allegiance in this place. Bad enough his ship was in full regalia. It was likely he’d anchored at some smaller island nearby, and come in on a local transport. No one would know to report the death of an Imperial captain, if they cared to report the
